


Scent

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 17:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: I. Have. A prompt. For you: have you ever met someone whose natural smell is so intoxicating, you want to devour them here and now? No? Oh, ok, nevermind.Asked by @emakaylee via tumblr





	Scent

Her head felt like reeling as Emma let it roll back on the cushioned couch she was seated at, the taste of alcohol on her lips and throat a soft and pleasing sensation her tired nerves kept on probing, making her fingers tingle when she grazed the couch’s surface with her palms. Body warm and the sound of the pitter-patter of the rain outside, the blonde could feel her eyes beginning to close as she let herself breathe for the first time of what felt like ages.

Or, she thought reflexively, for the first time than she had said “yes” in a binding promise she had been feeling doubtful the second the first sound escaped her mouth.

The lack of ring on her finger now, however, made her chuckle slightly, alcohol getting the best part of her, as she rose said hand and rubbed the bridge of her nose: warmth cascading down from her ears to her neck, leaving her boneless as she narrowed her eyes playfully to the warm light-bulbs that bathed the room she was in with an almost soft orange tint.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The question came from a few meters at her back, the unmistakable deep and soft tone of Regina’s voice making her twist her neck and peer above the sofa’s back, a slow smile spreading on her face. She had perhaps drunk more than she would usually have done but here, there, in the older woman’s living room she felt at ease and, as Regina approached her from where she had been standing with the soft clicking noise of her high heels ricocheting through the room, Emma couldn’t help herself but hum something close to a “yes”. One that got Regina chuckling softly as she walked past in front of Emma’s slightly spread legs, barely bending her knees so she could pick up the glass on the coffee table, the one Emma had kept untouched, between her index and thumb before sitting at the other side of the couch, eyes directed at the blonde.

“Who was it?” Emma questioned, referring to the early ring on the front door that had made Regina leave her place at the sofa a few minutes before. Taking a sip, the brunette eyed her, pupils shinning slightly from above the rim of the tumbler, painted nails gleaming under the light. “At the door.”

The older woman rose her right shoulder in a half shrug, the slightly loose blouse she wore moving with the movement as Emma’s eyes zeroed on it, alcohol and tiredness rendering her usual carefulness completely useless.

“Snow.” The brunette replied softly, almost carefully. “Wanted to know how you were faring.”

If Emma hadn’t been so preoccupied on Regina’s clavicle and skin she might have snorted at that. A week and a half after the divorce her mother tried to reach her precisely the night she had decided to spend it with Regina. The former mousey brunette truly had the best timing possible.

“I’m fine.” She declared, shaking her head and forcing her eyes to go back to Regina’s face, blindly reaching for her own drink resting on the table in front of the couch only to make a slight pout as she found the glass almost empty.

“Careful there.” She heard Regina say softly, a smidge of amusement ringing on her words while she snapped her fingers, refilling the glass. “You shouldn’t drink so fast.”

It was curious, Emma’s tired-addled mind thought, how the brunette’s words didn’t bother her but made her smile.  Smile as she stared at the casual way the brunette drank, one arm folded on her lap, the blouse and skirt ensemble she wore something reminiscent of her mayor days but not quite, not slightly right. The crown, she thought while spinning the liquid on her glass with slow, small circles, looked good on her. Even if it wasn’t resting on her head at the moment.

Which was maybe the reason why she felt a small trepidation every time her eyes found Regina’s, the relaxed lopsided smile the older woman sported once again not exactly hers neither, the “she” Emma last remembered. It was a mix, a colorful one, of the woman Henry had already told her everything about, the woman Regina had got to be during the last curse. The one she hadn’t been able to live and break with them.

Which stung, in a way, but not as fiery as it had done once.

“The cider is too good.” She finally replied, tilting her head, mimicking Regina’s own position, getting to steal a glance at Regina’s neck as her eyes momentarily going there, to the pulse point, to where the dormant power she possessed could sense magic pumping and running, purple almost a shimmer on the brunette’s skin, one faint but not weak enough for Emma’s eyes not to see it. “It’s difficult not to drink it.”

It felt as if her mouth was on autopilot, as if her tongue was too big between her teeth and Emma could feel something burning and scraping the back of her throat as she brought the tumbler to her mouth once again. The taste of the liquid was refreshing, as it’s been for the entire evening but, just the first sip she had taken, it didn’t quite quench the burning itself. Which she hated. In a way.

Regina hummed at that, relaxed and soft under the warm lights of the room and Emma wondered not for the first time why, why the woman had invited her there, secrets lacing the magic on her eyes the day before when she had extended her the invitation, the question making her heart hurt as it thumped on her chest.

It was a question; however, Emma didn’t want to ask, not really. And so, she lowered her glass and pressed the nail of her thumb against its rim, briefly looking at the liquid and the pale skin, the pressure making it look even paler.

And it was also a blessing, or a curse perhaps, that Regina was seated at the other side of the couch, back resting against the armrest because the very second Emma had stepped into the foyer the scent of the other woman had hit her senses and everything, from her magic to her body, felt like burning.

Something she had experienced from time to time with the other woman. The very first night she had met her the moment she had almost let her knees buckle as she had stared back at the gorgeous brunette.  With time, she had gotten better at not letting her body betray her, at not letting her hands wander whenever they were close enough to touch each other, magic pumping and calling for Regina’s skin. The worst possible moment she ever remembered had been during her Dark Swan days, when everything, from Regina’s own unique scent to the wanting for the other woman’s magic had been almost too much for her frayed nerves.

Tonight, however, everything around Regina, the air they shared, seemed to be filled with the smell, with that unique something Emma had learnt to recognize as only Regina’s. That something that made her search and recognize her, no matter what, no matter where. That something that mixed with her whenever they did magic together, running down her veins and biting at her insides, made her want to kneel and beg for more on some of the nights the memory of the magic became too much. Or maybe make the other woman kneel.

There had been a reason why she had asked for the divorce after all. Even if it was one she hadn’t said to a certain dark-haired pirate when the man had fished for an explanation.

And yet, there was something on the way Regina raised her chin, hand halted between her lap and her mouth, tumbler waiting in front of her chest as the other hand played idly with the hem of the blouse, that made Emma think that perhaps Regina knew. In some strange, convoluted way.

That or the perfume that seemed to keep assaulting Emma’s senses was turning her brain to mush.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The question made Emma’s racing thoughts to come into a halt, Regina’s red lips lazily parted as she eyed at her, brown locks catching the light.

God, the woman looked ravishing.

And Emma had at least half an inkling the woman knew that.

“You.”

The admission came out tumbling down her mouth before she was able to refrain herself and, as she stared at the brunette as the older woman’s eyes widened, she moved slightly forward into the couch, the soles of her feet pressing her forward -when had she taken out her boots? She didn’t quite remember-. Until she was an inch closer to Regina, the couch’s cushion dipping lightly, liquid on her glass sloshing now. There was no way she was able to rephrase what she had said. And she didn’t really want to either way. Not with Regina skin looking so warm, not with her body so close.

“Emma…”

It came out as a warning, one that didn’t really have any bite as it was more of a whisper than anything else. Because, at the end, Regina had asked her to go to the house after her shift and Emma hadn’t tell it to anyone. Not her mother, nor her father, not their grown-up son or the younger one who, as Regina had explained to her two hours ago, wasn’t sleeping on the house for the night. Because Emma had felt the tingle on the tips of her fingers the moment Regina had opened the door, still proper, still with that air of royalty she always sported. The one that made Emma go mad. Because Regina’s eyes had raked down her body for a moment, probably taking into the jeans and the leather jacket, and the tight black sweater she had decided to wear, hair with princess-like curls. Because Emma felt pleasantly drunk and Regina’s scent and power was like a siren’s call to her in a way that made the scratching on the back of her throat feel unbearable and painful.

It came as a calling, one Emma stared at as Regina slowly, very slowly, moved forward as well, warning on her eyes as her chest raised more heavily for a moment, eyes never leaving hers.

“I didn’t call you for this. If you don’t want to.”

It was a mutter, one that made Emma’s entire body tremble as she saw the want on Regina’s face, on the way the brunette’s fingers closed around the glass.

“I know.” She replied, lips chapped.

Did she really? Regina had never pushed, had never asked and maybe a tiny part of her had wanted her to pull her back in, closer. Like they had been before Hook had started his mind games, before she had been forced to leave and had returned only to find that Regina gave her heart first to a man she barely knew instead than to her. And the betrayal and the hurt still were there, as well as the shame and rage at herself for everything that had happened after that; every crocked and stupid decision, every loss and death.

So, she knew, she knew Regina didn’t intend to push her, didn’t intend to make the decision for herself but, how much she wanted it. And how much she wondered if Regina, just like her, had felt the slowly slipping away decision on never truly following her desires. The ones that had kept Emma awake during those months after the brunette’s departure, the ones that had made her touch herself during the first year in Storybrooke, full of fury and rage and disgust and desire and heat as well.

Growling, she moved closer, her knees touching Regina’s, the alcohol on her glass too close to be spilled.

And Regina, control, neat-freak Regina, didn’t even glanced down as a couple of drops overflow the rim of the glass.

“I know.” Emma repeated, more heatedly, and she felt dizzy and drunk once again but this time not because of the alcohol on her veins but because Regina’s magic, the one that circled her, filled her with every breath, as it escaped the brunette’s every pore. The one Emma had found herself missing, wanting, crying for. The one that had that scent, the one she now could feel clouding her every sense as she licked her lips, pulse quickening on her neck and wrists. She could almost taste it.

She wanted to taste it.

“Emma.” Regina’s voice was stronger now but lower in pitch and Emma gulped as she saw the darkening on the woman’s pupils, the brown turning almost black in a matter of seconds. “Don’t…”

“I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.” The blonde cut her short, and the words felt as if a band-aid had been ripped; quick and brusque. “You.”

She didn’t quite see the goosebumps on Regina’s skin, but she saw the shudder making the loose fabric of the blouse tremble as well.

And it was too much. The scent, the desire, the need to touch, to grasp, to caress the other woman overwhelming her senses. And so, as she leapt forward, forgoing the glass in a flurry of dirty white sparks and listening Regina’s own drop into the ground with a loud thud, she searched for the older woman’s mouth.

The moaned “yes” she received for that merely making her growl as she lowered her head, kissing and nipping at skin as she fumbled with the devilish blouse, the buttons taunting her as they refused to give in.

And so she fell, chest heaving and mind reeling and magic burning the tips of her fingers as she kissed the brunette.

“I want you, now.”

The last thing she heard before Regina’s hands pushed her until she fell into her back was a second “I do too.”


End file.
